


Death Day

by nancynotruth



Series: Canned Spaghetti 'verse [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, It's Ben and Klaus though, Panic Attacks, This is a deep dive into the rules of ghosthood in TUA, anniversary of death, but that doesn't mean they like each other, by the advanced technique of actually TALKING to Vanya, so nothing unexpected, the Hargreeves siblings love each other, the apocalypse was averted, this isn't all sad i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancynotruth/pseuds/nancynotruth
Summary: Today is the anniversary of Ben's death. Apparently. He lost track of the day somewhere along the way, and Klaus (as always) is no help. So now he has to sit there while his siblings reminisce about his tragic death, because even with everything that's ever happened to them–Vanya getting powers and almost destroying the universe, Luther becoming part gorilla–none of them will believe he's still here.Except, Klaus seems determined to prove some kind of point. And for the first time since his death however long ago, Ben is given the opportunity to prove to his family that he still exists.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Everyone, Ben Hargreeves & Everyone, Diego Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Luther Hargreeves & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone, Vanya Hargreeves & Everyone
Series: Canned Spaghetti 'verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931317
Comments: 4
Kudos: 113





	Death Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wax Poetic About My Untimely Demise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875035) by [capyshota](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capyshota/pseuds/capyshota). 



> So, so many thanks to the fantastic n0ts0sane (on tumblr) for Beta reading this story. 
> 
> I've written Vanya with she/her pronouns, to keep with the current canon.

“I’m sure you all know what today is,” Luther said, clasping his hands uncomfortably and leaning forwards in his chair. Even with his super strength and genetically enhanced muscles, he managed to look small. 

“Wednesday?” Klaus asked, throwing his leg over one arm of the chair (at least he was wearing pants today, even if they were a billowy pinstriped burgundy nightmare) and leaning dramatically against the other. “Flag Day? Ooh! National Get-Luther-to-Shut-Up day? Please tell me it’s the last one.” 

“Not the time, Klaus,” Allison rasped, throat still healing. She kept a pen and paper on her most of the time, a nice safety net to fall into, but Ben understood why she didn’t like to use it. Without a voice, people had been able to ignore her, demean her, talk for her like she wasn’t there. If Ben could’ve done something—anything—to get his own voice back…well, he was happy for Allison. He tried to leave it at that. 

“It’s never the time, Klaus,” Ben said from his seat on the arm of the couch, knees pulled up almost to his chest to keep himself from putting a foot through Diego’s head. Ghost etiquette. 

Klaus rolled his eyes at Ben, lolling his entire head with the motion, but couldn’t respond without looking like a raving lunatic, or worse, like he was high again after almost two months clean. So maybe this wasn’t completely a two-way conversation, but it was nice to know that Klaus could hear him. Plus, Ben could definitely capitalize on Klaus’ inability to reply.

“I’ll go first,” Luther said. He sounded like he was speaking his final words before facing the firing squad. “I know I should have done…more. I should have been there for him. Maybe—“ 

“Not your fault.” Allison’s wheeze turned into a hacking cough, and Vanya patted her shoulder. Klaus turned to Ben, eyebrows raised _. What’s going on?  _

“I have no idea,” Ben said. It was hard to keep time when you never slept and the person you were haunting could sleep for thirteen hours and stay up for thirty. He barely even knew the month, much less the—apparently very important—day. “Tell Allison to take a break. She’ll get laryngitis if she doesn’t rest her voice.”

“Shut up, Allison,” Klaus called. 

“Not what I said,” muttered Ben. Klaus shot him an innocent smile. Ben shut his eyes and let his annoyance roll over him like a wave before dissipating. He couldn’t afford to be angry.

“Klaus—” Luther began, voice tense, and Ben couldn’t tell if he was closer to punching Klaus or crying. Ben could relate. 

“He’s just upset,” Vanya said, shrinking into herself even more, like she couldn’t believe she’d just interrupted Number One. “It was hard on all of us,”

“You didn’t have to see it,” Diego snapped, fingers twitching towards his knives. 

“She didn’t have a choice,” Five said from across the room, closing his book (the Odyssey, again) with a snap. “Neither did I. Neither did any of us.” 

“You’re just saying that because you weren’t there. You didn’t have to see—“ 

“Shut  _ up _ , Diego!” Five yelled. “You have no idea what I’ve seen.” 

“You didn’t have to see your  _ own brother  _ on the floor, covered in blood, literally tearing himself apart! By the time it was over, all that was left was a pile of blood and a couple pieces of his jacket. That was all we could bury.” 

Even though the Horror had been painless for over a decade, Ben gasped sharply as a memory of agony tore at his stomach. He clutched at his jacket—the same jacket—and imagined the feeling of its cold leather beneath his fingers. He could feel Klaus looking at him with mild concern. 

“Maybe I wasn’t there when…when it happened,” Five said, voice icy and quiet. “But I buried you. All of you.” 

“In a reality that never really existed!”

“It. Was. Real. I  _ lived _ it.” 

“Wait, wait, wait a minute,” Klaus cut in. “Is today October Third?” 

Everyone slowly turned to look at him, even Diego and Five. 

“You’re telling me,” Luther said, “That you don’t even remember which day Ben died?” 

“Holy shit,” Ben said, raking his fingers through his unmoving hair. He took a deep breath of nothingness to try and calm himself; playing it cool for Klaus’ benefit. It never helped to make Klaus upset, and he’d learned from years of experience that if he acted calm, sometimes he became calm. “I knew  _ something  _ slipped my mind.” 

“No, I don’t remember,” Klaus said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “But in my defense, neither did he.” 

“Ben was always nice to me,” Vanya said quietly, either too wrapped up in her own head to notice the tension in the air or just trying to smooth it over. “He used to help me when I was having trouble with math and science. I miss him.” 

“She did fine without me,” Ben murmured, smiling just a bit, still shaky. “But it was fun.” 

“We all miss him,” Luther said, reaching to pat her on the upper arm, slowly enough that she didn’t feel the need to flinch away. 

“I don’t,” said Klaus. It was almost comical how everyone’s head snapped towards him. Ben wondered if Mom would have to treat them for whiplash. 

“ _ What? _ ” Diego asked, momentarily too shocked to reach for his knives. 

“What the hell, Klaus,” Five said through gritted teeth, eyes dark and dangerous, knuckles white as he gripped the edges of Homer. Ben could easily see how he’d been the most brutal hitman the Commission had ever seen. He just hoped that his only link to the mortal realm could be spared a demonstration of Five’s skills. 

“Why would you even say that?” Vanya’s voice was so flat that the question was almost lost. Yet another person that Klaus would be an absolute idiot to anger. 

“Klaus,” Ben warned, “Don’t be a moron.” 

“Yes!” Klaus said, standing up and spreading his arms. When that didn’t seem theatrical enough, he stepped up onto the low table and struck a pose. Ben slapped his hand to his forehead. “I don’t miss him. I’ve never missed him, because he’s  _ right there. _ ” He pointed to Ben, who was now standing up, looking at Klaus in utter disbelief. What an  _ idiot.  _

“That’s Diego,” Vanya said. Ben turned around and, sure enough, Diego was standing nearly on top of him. Great. 

“No, darling, that’s Ben standing in front of Diego.” 

“Yeah?” Diego, asked, stepping forwards, directly into Ben. Ben shivered and took a step back, away from the intense discomfort that was his brother’s head sticking out the front of his neck (he’d always been quite pleased to end up taller than Number Two). 

“Well, now he’s behind you,” Klaus mumbled. 

“What are you going to do to prove it? Drop another bowling ball?” 

“Guys, this isn’t what today is about,” Vanya said, her voice so much louder than normal that everyone turned warily to look at her. But her eyes were still brown, glossy with tears. “Today is about remembering Ben, not yelling at each other, not trying to prove who’s boss. Today is about Ben.”

Ben hadn’t had this much attention since his family had watched his violent death, and it was kind of overwhelming. Everyone was thinking about him, talking about him, caring about him…looking straight through him. Ben was glad he’d spent so much time training himself to be calm, to let things slide off his back, because if he hadn’t he'd be crying right now. 

“Yeah,” Diego said, turning back to glare at Klaus. “Some of us remember Ben, and I guess that some of us just don’t care.” 

“Oh, I remember Ben!” Klaus said, drawing himself up to his full height. There was something new about his bearing, something that only a pathetic ghost who’d been following him around for fifteen-odd years would be able to notice. The way he held his back ramrod straight: that wasn’t their father. That was the Vietnam war. “I remember the way that he talked me through every single rehab program, how he helped me read Vanya’s book when my concentration was shit, that one time he nagged me into going to the emergency room when that dealer shivved me.”

**The dealer what?** Alison’s notepad read in large block print. While Ben was glad she was giving her voice a rest, he winced at the memory. He’d thought there’d been a lot of blood when he died, but the amount spilling out of Klaus’ stomach that night…he didn’t like to dwell on it. Neither, apparently, did Klaus, who hadn’t even stopped talking.

“When you went to that rave, Luther, and he talked me into helping you even though it got me killed.”

“You died?” Vanya asked. 

“Luther went to a  _ rave _ ?” Five asked. 

“Dude, I  _ said _ I was sorry,” Ben said.

“I forgive you, Ben. You didn’t know what a dick Luther had turned out to be, but it’s okay! I came back, Luther got to pop his cherry, and it’s all due to little Benny here.” 

“I…don’t even know where to start,” Diego said, looking back and forth between Klaus, who had his  _ Hello  _ hand raised like he was giving a commencement speech, and Luther, who had turned a shade of bright red Ben had never seen before. 

“And when I was getting tortured by those two mobsters with stupid names Ben was there the entire time, and he kept me from giving up on myself.” Ben couldn’t tell whether Klaus was genuinely teary, or if it was just for effect. Either way, it was kind of moving. “When I lost the love of my life in Vietnam, Ben was the one who comforted me. So what if he couldn’t catch the bowling ball when I threw it? He’s been there to catch me every single time I’ve fallen.” 

“Shut up,” Ben mumbled. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself.” 

“No!” Klaus said, fixing his eyes directly on Ben. “This isn’t just for you. I need to prove that I’ve been telling the truth.”

“We already know you’re insane, Klaus,” Luther said, finally standing up. Even with Klaus standing on the table, he towered above him. “You don’t need to drag our dead brother into this.” 

“That’s exactly it!” Klaus gave a twittering, almost unhinged, laugh. “I’m not insane.” 

“And that’s how a sane person acts,” Ben put in. 

“Careful,” Five warned, appearing just in front of Luther and catching his raised arm. “If Klaus truly believes he’s seeing Ben, putting him under too much pressure could cause him to relapse.” 

“So we should pretend to believe him?” Diego said. “If you think that’s what Ben would want, maybe you’re delusional too. I mean, you’re the one who thinks a mannequin can talk.” 

“If you say one more word about Dolores…” 

“Ben,” Klaus said, voice low, turning to Ben. He tried not to show it, but even when Klaus was being an indescribable idiot (read: always), it made Ben’s spirits—ha—lift when Klaus looked at him. “I swear to that little girl that I’ll figure out a way to make you visible, but right now I need your help. I’ll flip the pages for you whenever you want for the rest of my life, okay?” 

“Okay.” Klaus perked up. “But you also have to get a watch.” Klaus’ face fell faster than the bowling ball. 

“Ugh, why?”

“Because I want to know when to tell you to go to sleep.” Because for the first time since he’d died, Ben finally had the upper hand.

“If sleep wants me, she can take me by force,” Klaus said, “I’m not going down without a fight!”

“Stop talking, Klaus,” Luther took a menacing step forwards. 

“Watch,” Ben said. 

“Calendar.” 

“Watch.” 

“Cuckoo Clock.”

“Watch.” 

“No standing on the table, Dear,” Mom said from the other side of the room. Ben hadn’t even noticed her come in. She wasn’t quite the same now—even with all of Pogo’s expertise, something had gotten lost in her rewiring—but she was still their mom. 

“Pretty soon, you’re not going to be able to stand at all,” Diego said. 

“Fine,” Klaus sighed, “Watch. Now, do your thing and prove that you exist, ok?” 

“Sure,” Ben said, smiling at Klaus as Diego’s knife sailed past, almost nicking Klaus’ ear. “After you say that I’m the best brother ever, and—” 

“Ben!” 

“Fine. Tell Luther, Ben says Army Matchstick Man.”

“Fifteen years to think about it and that’s what you come up with?” 

“Jesus Christ, Klaus, just say it.” God. Had it really been fifteen years?

“Now, that’s an interesting theory. Does Jesus Christ exist? Because that little girl really didn’t look like a father to me.”

“You’re the one who asked for my help,” Ben said quickly, because Luther looked about one second from knocking Klaus out completely, and this might be Ben’s only chance. “Just say it.” 

“Ben says Army Matchstick Man,” Klaus blurted. Luther stopped short, the color draining from his face like someone had flash-frozen him. 

“What?” He breathed. 

“Tell him that defense was his weak point.” 

“Defense was your weak point,” Klaus said calmly, as Luther’s eyes cut from side to side like a threatened animal. 

“How do you…how…”

“Oh, I have no idea what it means,” Klaus said, holding up both hands in a  _ don’t kill the messenger  _ type of gesture. “Ben’s the one talking here. I am merely his humble mouthpiece.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Ben said. Klaus just shrugged. 

“Ben?” Luther asked breathlessly. “I don’t…that was so long ago, I can’t…”

_ Number Six and Number One. Both of them endowed with extraordinary strength, One’s easily controllable and trainable, Six’s wild and a mystery to even their father. No wonder One was the favorite. Six didn’t resent him, of course, it wasn’t One’s fault that his powers came to him so effortlessly. But One had begun to take Dad’s numbering system as some kind of sacred oath, viewing himself as the Umbrella Academy’s leader and not their friend. He spent most of his time with the higher numbers now, and Six, being second to last, barely saw his brother outside of training and mealtimes anymore.  _

_ Still, every Friday night, Six would sneak out of his room and rap on One’s door. And every Friday night, One would quietly open the door, ignoring the number order and the curfew, his smile barely visible in the dark of the night. Six would open up the matchbox he kept beneath a loose floorboard under his bed and take out the broken matchsticks that they’d carefully tied into human-like shapes. So what if they couldn’t have real toys?  _

_ They’d set up their defensive and offensive lines, moving their pieces in a game that was somewhere between chess, Chinese checkers, and parcheesi and often didn’t make sense, even to them. It always ended the same way; Six would infiltrate One’s defensive line and take out his offense with seemingly friendly fire. Each week, Six would leave long after midnight, and One would say, “This is the last time.”  _

_ And one Friday night, it really was.  _

_ The surveillance cameras were installed the next day, and the Army Matchstick Men were still gathering dust under the loose floorboard in what used to be Ben’s room.  _

Ben waited for Luther to say something else, to tell Klaus that he was a liar or to break down in tears, but that seemed to be it. Luther was staring into space, jaw unhinged and eyes wide. Ben’s first words to his non-Klaus siblings, and he’d broken one of them. He honestly didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed. 

“What did you do to Luther?” Vanya asked as Allison waved her hand in front of Luther’s face once, twice, three times. He didn’t even blink. Even Klaus looked a bit surprised. 

“Wow, Benny. Wish you’d done this the last time he tried to kill me.” Ben rolled his eyes. Both he and Klaus knew that Klaus never would’ve listened to him, much less relayed his seemingly nonsensical words to Luther. 

“So you say a few random words,” Diego said, drawing another of his knives. Ben wished that his siblings had a sense of logical escalation, like maybe trying to talk it out before resorting to lethal force. “And you want us to believe that you’re talking for Ben.” 

It was nice when people said his name. Ben had hung on for a long time—most ghosts became walking nightmares within a year—and he liked to think it was because his family remembered him. Of course, he knew that the actual reason had more to do with Klaus and with the iron willpower he’d developed when he was just a kid, forced to keep in an eldritch Horror that would kill everyone he knew if he stopped concentrating for just a second. 

Still, at least his family remembered him. 

“I  _ am  _ talking for Ben.” Klaus’ voice was going all whiny, his eyes big and puppydog-like, the kind that would take in an unwary drug dealer but couldn’t fool his family. Or at least, not Ben, who probably knew Klaus better than anyone else in the universe (Klaus would say that Dave knew him better). 

“Shut  _ up _ , Klaus,” Diego snapped. “Stop being so goddamn annoying.” 

Klaus brought his fingertips to his chest in a  _ who, me?  _ gesture. 

“Got anything for stabby over here?” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. 

Ben considered his options. Sure, he could let Klaus flounder. Payback for literally everything that Klaus had ever done in his entire life. Still, even though Klaus would probably go back to misquoting him right after he was done with the important information, Ben did feel a sense of obligation. For all the times Klaus had put a pillow on the floor for him, and ordered him an extra waffle with his last couple of cents. 

Besides, it was nice, for once, to feel heard. 

“Tell Diego,” Ben said, “that Luther smells Dad’s underwear.” 

“Now  _ that  _ I can do.” Klaus turned to Diego, a grin growing on his face. Ben felt a little bit proud of making Klaus smile like that, even with a knife at his throat. “Hey, Diego, Ben says that Luther smells Dad’s underwear.” 

“Oh my god.” Diego took two steps backwards and sat down hard, like all the breath had been knocked out of him, his knife seemingly flinging itself out of his hand and bouncing off a doorframe. 

_ Number Two—no, Diego—and Ben were covering their mouths with both hands to hold in their laughter as they snuck away from Allison’s room. Ben still felt a warm glow of pride that Diego had chosen him to help with the prank. Ben was no Five, but he was a fairly good mechanic and he’d easily reprogrammed Allison’s teddy bear. Diego had wanted to do something else, like write their numbers on the bear in permanent marker, but Ben had vetoed the idea. It was enough that they knew what they’d done.  _

_ “We were never here,” Diego whispered in his ear as they left, hesitating just a bit over the “h” sound. Ben mimed zipping his mouth shut, still biting back a smile. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to want to laugh. _

“My teddy bear! That was  _ you _ ?” Allison’s voice was clearer than it had been since before her accident (she insisted on calling it an accident, instead of attempted murder with supernatural powers). Diego instinctively raised his hands above his head 

“Any words of wisdom for Allison?” Klaus asked Ben. “Before she kills you again, I mean.” 

“Tell her that I used the seat she saved for me,” Ben said, trying not to let his voice tremble. He and Allison hadn’t been that close, before his death. No inside jokes, no secret memories, just a regular relationship between adopted siblings with superpowers. But he hoped that Allison would realize what he was trying to tell her, and how much it meant to him. Klaus turned back to Allison and opened his mouth, but Ben cut in before he could start. 

“Tell Vanya the same thing, Klaus. Okay? And tell them both thank you.” 

He had been close with Vanya, but all of their memories were tainted. Her crying on his shoulder because she felt so left out, or her stroking his forehead as he threw up for the fourth time and the Horror writhed. He’d told her to get away, that he could kill her, but she’d stuck by him. She’d been the only one. 

All of this was too painful to bring up, especially to someone whose emotions could literally end the world. It was also hard to convey in a sentence short enough for Klaus to remember (the drugs had eaten into his memory over the years, and Ben didn’t want him to just start improvising). He hoped that Vanya would understand what he meant, and why he didn’t say more. 

“Ben used the seats you saved for him, and he says thanks,” Klaus dutifully repeated.

“At my concert?” Vanya asked in a thick little voice, pulling her sleeves even further over her hands. 

**“** My wedding?” Allison asked, voice rasping and cracking. Ben winced.

_ The family of the bride section was woefully empty. Klaus was stretched out across six chairs, blackout drunk, while Ben perched on the seventh leaving two chairs empty. He’d seen Allison crying earlier, when she’d thought she was alone, clutching at an official Umbrella Academy Lunchbox (Family is Everything!). He hadn’t been able to help her. In fact, he’d felt like a creep and immediately melted through the nearest wall. But she’d saved him a symbolic seat, and if all he could do was use it, then he’d sit in the chair with pride.  _

_ Allison was a beautiful bride. Ben cried imaginary tears through the entire ceremony.  _

_ Almost a year later, Ben and Klaus were in an eerily similar situation, except this time Klaus was complaining about armrests being invented by Satan as he attempted to lie across the top of the concert hall’s fold-down chairs. Ben hoped he’d fall on the floor.  _

_ Ben himself was sitting on the top of the chair that he couldn’t fold down, using the upright seat as a foot rest. Whatever. It was still pretty cool that he got his own seat for Vanya’s first concert. He clapped more often than anyone else (he didn’t need to follow the rules on when to clap if nobody could hear him), and louder too. Klaus was hungover and drugged up and not happy about all the noise. Ben didn’t care. Vanya was the best violinist in the world.  _

“Yeah,” Klaus said, and Ben was just a bit impressed that he remembered being there at all. “He clapped so loudly, I had a migraine for days.” 

“That was the morphine.” 

“Well, yeah, but the clapping didn’t help.” 

“Were you the one who got thrown out of the theatre in the middle for crying?” Vanya asked. “I always thought that was a baby.” 

“Wimp,” Ben said. 

“Hey,” Klaus said, crossing his arms. “I know from personal experience that Ben claps his hands almost as loudly as a grenade, and tinnitus is no laughing matter.” 

“M26 or M33?” Five asked. He’d been standing next to Luther, coolly watching his other siblings’ revelations and Klaus’ dramatic one sided conversation with what looked like thin air. Ben didn’t expect Five to believe that he was there. Five was a realist, after all, and Ben’s presence just wasn’t realistic. 

“M61, actually.” Then again, neither was Klaus having fought in the Vietnam War. 

“Oh, the M61s have some nice jungle clip action.” Or Five being a fifty year old assassin trapped in a thirteen year old body. 

“Oh, yeah. I remember when this one guy in my squadron, Bert, he tried to hang the M61 from his  _ belt  _ and…”

“Klaus,” Ben interrupted. He knew that Five and Klaus could talk weapons all day, probably bring in Diego as a knife expert, have a fun and deadly bonding experience. But Ben was  _ so close _ to proving his existence. And he wanted so much to talk to Five. His childhood best friend, the only one who had left him instead of the other way around, who looked exactly the same as he always had in Ben’s memory. It was like Five had been frozen in time when he’d left, even though Ben knew that wasn’t the case. Yet another thing he and Five had in common. The missing siblings, alone in their respective post-apocalypses. The portrait and the statue. Ben had the feeling that Five would understand exactly what he’d been through all these years with Klaus. 

Klaus turned back to him, expectantly. “Benny! Got anything for the oldest and tiniest member of our little clan?” 

“Tell him…” 

Five was a hard one. Anybody could know Five’s favorite equation (Translational Motion) or his favorite kind of spatial jump (diagonal, coming out where he would’ve naturally walked during the same amount of time, just for show). They might have been best friends, but their friendship was stilted, twisted by their upbringing and Five’s caginess. They had secrets, of course, and inside jokes, but nothing Five would want to talk about. 

But Ben was on a roll, and he decided to place his bets. There was something he’d overheard, and even though he didn’t know the whole story, it was the best he had. Besides, what was the afterlife without a bit of risk? “Tell him canned spaghetti.” 

“Really?” Klaus asked, wrinkling his nose. “You and I both know from the Drugstore Kevin experience, that stuff sucks.” 

“Tell him,” Ben said. He tried not to think about Drugstore Kevin, one of Klaus’ more ill-fated hookups, who had said he had some “good stuff” laid by and then—in exchange for some truly disgusting sex—thrown several label-less cans of food through Ben’s stomach and onto the asphalt and left. The food had probably saved Klaus’ life, but still. Drugstore Kevin had not been a good person. 

“Alright,” Klaus said, shrugging and turning back to Five, who was standing with his arms casually crossed and one eyebrow raised. “Ben says canned spaghetti.” 

Five’s eyes popped so wide, it truly seemed like they were about to pull a Harold Jenkins and fall out of his head. For the first time since he’d come back, Five actually looked like a thirteen year old. Uncertain, afraid, painfully hopeful. 

“How could he  _ possibly  _ know that?” Five asked, in an almost breathy voice. 

_ Five was standing perfectly still, staring at the remainder of Ben’s statue. He was different from the Five Ben had grown up with, a wild emotional tornado of movement. This Five seemed determined not to show his emotions, walking straight through the siblings he hadn’t seen in far more than fifteen years (Ben would’ve broken down crying if one of them so much looked his way). However, as far as Five knew, he was alone with Ben’s statue. He didn’t need to pretend.  _

_ “I thought you might be there,” Five said, almost whispering. “Just for a minute. It was before I found Dolores—“ Who was Dolores? “—and I think I was just desperate for company. I missed you, Ben.”  _

_ “I miss you, too,” Ben said, his hand hovering just over Five’s shoulder. If he went any closer, he’d go straight through Five’s body. _

_ “I made a deal with you,” Five said, with a bitter little laugh. “If you were there, if you could hear me, you would say canned spaghetti. Like our time loop words, remember?”  _

_ Ben did remember. When Five was just figuring out his powers, when they were just scared little kids, he’d been terrified that he’d make some kind of misstep and get caught in what he called a “groundhog day type of scenario.” He and Ben had worked out a time loop code, an abstract and semi-ridiculous sentence that Five would only ever say if he was caught in a time loop, so that Ben would always believe him.  _

_ So now they had ghost words, too. Canned spaghetti. And Ben was there, and he was a ghost, but he’d still never get to say them. Klaus was never sober, or agreeable, for long enough.  _

_ “Canned spaghetti,” Ben said, as loudly as he could without yelling. Without breaking his composure. If he became angry, stayed angry, for too long, he’d become just like every other ghost. “Five, I’m right here.”  _

_ Five didn’t even look up from the face of his decapitated statue.  _

“Tell him that I was outside with him, just after he got back.” Ben kept his voice from choking up with a massive effort. If Klaus knew how important this was, he wouldn’t rest until he knew the whole story, and Ben didn’t think Five would want Klaus to know. Ben didn’t want Klaus to know, either. 

“He was outside with you, after you got back,” Klaus relayed. “Doing his ghostly little thing, following people around, not creepy at all. Why don’t you ever do anything interesting, Ben? I’m sure there’s some kind of ghost nightclub somewhere.”

Ben didn’t reply. If there really was a hell, his would probably look a lot like a ghost nightclub.

“Oh,” Five said, shoulders slumping. “I suppose I shouldn’t have…yes, that makes sense.” 

“So,” Luther said, finally unfrozen, squinting at the air in front of Diego like he hoped it might help him see through the veil. “Ben really is here.” 

“Wow,” Klaus said, “What tipped you off? He’s over here now, by the way,” he said, gesturing towards the ceiling in the exact opposite direction from Ben. 

“On the ceiling?” Vanya asked. 

“Yes. He can fly,” Klaus said with a completely straight face. 

“Dude,” Ben said, waving his arms, hoping to attract Klaus’ eyes and that maybe Diego or Allison would notice, and then they’d look at him. “You  _ know  _ I’m over here.” 

Klaus stared resolutely in the opposite direction. 

“Don’t tell me I have to climb up to the ceiling.” 

Klaus ignored him. 

“I hate you.” 

Ben had told Klaus he hated him before. Of course he had. They were brothers, after all. He’d told Klaus he hated him when Klaus made a particularly bad joke, when Klaus took yet another pill, when Klaus ignored him for hours—even days—because he didn’t feel like talking. He’d mouth it when Klaus would kick him under the table, to try and force him to make a noise during silent time. Ben could think of at least twenty times he’d told Klaus he hated him, just off the top of his head. But this time, right now, was the first time he actually meant it. And that scared Ben more than he cared to admit. 

“Ben! That’s an awful thing to say about Luther. He does not look like the muscular Pillsbury dough boy.” 

Diego put his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter, just like he had that day so long ago when they’d reprogrammed Allison’s teddy bear. But this time Ben wasn’t in on the joke, Ben  _ was  _ the joke. 

“He didn’t really say that, did he?” Luther asked, hurt. 

“No!” Ben said, almost shouted. He could feel his composure starting to break, and he forced himself to care. But he’d been so close, he’d almost communicated, and it was all slipping away. His memory was being corrupted on the anniversary of his death, and he was right here, watching it happen. Unable to make it stop.

His breath was coming rapidly, even though he couldn’t breathe real air anymore because he was  _ dead.  _ He’d  _ died _ . It had happened  _ today  _ and he could remember the tentacles ripping into him, tearing, pain…

“Hey, no,” Klaus said, voice much softer and much closer to Ben than it had been before. “Ben would never say that. He prefers the Keebler Elves, anyway. That was just me being an asshole. I can be an asshole, right, Ben?” 

“Yeah,” Ben said, and, to his horror, he let out a choked-off sob. He couldn’t let himself be this emotional for much longer. He was so  _ angry  _ at Klaus and the grief for his own death (was he even allowed to grieve himself?) that never left was suddenly magnified. Ben could lose all the humanity he’d been clinging to for so long with just one wrong move. 

“He’s not on the ceiling,” Klaus said, a bit of panic creeping into his voice. He knew the stakes just as well as Ben. They’d both watched ghosts who could almost pass for human turn into shambling, insane wrecks when they saw their murderers or their living children and started to scream and scream and never stop. “I was lying. I’m sorry, okay? He’s here, on the floor.” 

And Ben realized that yeah, he was on the floor. He might also be thrashing around, and there was a familiar sensation stirring in the pit of his stomach. Not pain, necessarily, he hadn’t felt pain since this day—how many years ago? Klaus had said fifteen, but he didn’t trust Klaus. So the sensation wasn’t painful, just a numb buzzing, like the kind he used to get if Luther launched him upwards too quickly. The Horror was trying to get out. 

“…right here,” Klaus was saying desperately. “Come on, Ben, open your eyes.” Ben hadn’t even realized they were closed. But he opened them and there was his family. His entire family, numbers one through seven, all staring directly at him. It was such a shock, he almost stopped crying. 

“Hey, Ben,” Five said. “You okay, buddy?” 

“They still can’t see me, can they?” Ben asked, because nobody who could see him sobbing in a ball on the floor would be asking if he were okay. But he couldn’t afford to be upset about it, he  _ couldn’t _ , he’d lose his humanity and the Horror would be unleashed and…

“No,” Klaus said gently. “But hey, I promise I’ll repeat anything you say, okay?” 

“Okay,” Ben said helplessly, clutching at his stomach. He didn’t have much to say. He was dead, and his family was staring at the ground and pretending they were seeing the tragic martyr that Ben had become in their memories. But Ben wasn’t that boy anymore, and soon he might not be Ben at all anymore, because he was angry and upset and overwhelmed and so scared. He wondered vaguely if he’d ever let himself feel this many emotions, even when he was alive.

“Talk to him!” Klaus said, after waiting a minute for Ben to say something else, eyes wide and mascara smeared across his cheeks. “Come on, guys. He’s kind of freaking out.” 

“Why is he freaking out?” Diego asked, dutifully staring at Ben’s left shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know, because this is the anniversary of the day he  _ died _ ?” Five snapped. Ben gave another awful, wracking sob. The Horror writhed. 

“No no no,” Klaus said, waving like he was trying to air dry his hands. “No arguing. You can have it out later, but Ben isn’t doing well, okay? You’ve got to help him.” 

“Why can’t you help him?” Luther asked, focused on a spot on the carpet about an inch to the right of Ben’s elbow. “You’re the one who can see him.” 

“I can’t!” Klaus pulled at his hair with both hands. “I can’t help him.” 

Ben hadn’t seen Klaus this upset since the day they’d averted the apocalypse. He’d nearly broken his skinny arm getting Vanya out of her prison, and Ben had coached him on how to talk her down until her eyes finally turned back to brown. At the concert that night—while the rest of their siblings fought back at the house—Ben sat cross-legged in the middle of the aisle and Vanya had played the most beautiful music he'd ever heard.

“You helped me,” Vanya said now, putting her hand on Klaus’ arm. Ben didn’t know how he felt about Klaus, so upset yet so upsetting, but he figured at least confusion was a step up from hate. 

“That was  _ Ben _ ,” Klaus said, gesturing to Ben, almost putting his hand through Ben’s knee. “I was just repeating after him. I’m not good with feelings and crap.” 

Ben wanted to tell Klaus something like  _ maybe if you weren’t drugged up your entire life  _ or  _ that’s not your fault, it’s Dad’s  _ but he wasn’t sure if he could make himself talk. Everything seemed to be underwater, remote and unreachable. He was dead, and they were alive. 

“Oh,” Vanya said, staring straight at Ben’s nose—which would’ve been kind of weird if she could actually see him—with big watery eyes. “Thank you, Ben.” 

“No problem,” Ben said, hoping that was the correct response. There was just so much going on, so many feelings, the  _ Horror _ , and so many years of being a complete social recluse. He didn’t know if he remembered how to carry on a conversation with someone who wasn’t Klaus.

“Ben says no problem,” Klaus relayed, and Ben really was grateful. Mostly. “Now what do  _ I  _ say?” He turned pleadingly to Allison. 

“Say what Ben would say,” Allison rasped. Ben half wished she’d just Rumored him calm or something.  _ Could  _ ghosts be Rumored? Maybe, if someone had thought of that sooner, Klaus never would’ve become an addict. Then he realized he was thinking about Rumoring ghosts instead of concentrating on remaining calm or keeping the Horror in, which just made him panic more. So now his sanity rested in the hands of Klaus, who could barely keep his own. Great. 

“Oh! Um, okay. I can say something Ben would say, I guess.” Allison nodded encouragingly as Klaus leaned down, right next to Ben’s face…and clapped his hands aggressively less than an inch from Ben’s nose. Ben jerked away, sending the back of his head through the floor. “Hey!” Klaus yelled, spit flying through Ben’s cheeks and onto the wood beneath. “You suck and your life is a disaster. If we weren’t related, I would’ve ditched your ass by now. So get up, get control of yourself, and don’t make me kill you again!” 

For just a second there was complete silence in the room. Ben didn’t think he’d seen his siblings this shocked since…well, about five minutes ago. Still, even in the middle of what was probably a panic attack, Ben just had to laugh. 

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” he told Klaus, and somehow it wasn’t quite as hard to talk anymore.

_ Ben had only been dead for two weeks, and now Klaus was about to follow him. Slick liquid, almost black in the moonlight, seeped across half eaten burgers and old tin cans. Only someone as familiar with the look of blood as Ben would’ve been able to recognize it for what it was, although the fact that it was bubbling out of Klaus’ stomach may have been a giveaway.  _

_ “Klaus, get up,” Ben said, trying to stop his voice from shaking. He perched at the edge of the dumpster, keeping a lookout just in case someone was passing by, someone who could hear Klaus call for help.  _

_ “Tired,” mumbled Klaus. “Wanna look at the stars.”  _

_ “You’re dying,” Ben said.  _

_ “Yeah, whatever.” Klaus rolled over onto his side like the dumpster was a feather bed.  _

_ “There’s a payphone right there. It’s in order, and I found a quarter on the ground. Come on, Klaus.” _

_ No response.  _

_ “Klaus?”  _

_ Klaus’ eyelids fluttered, either falling asleep or waking up, Ben couldn’t tell. “Tired,” he whispered. His skin was paler than Ben’s.  _

_ Ben dropped from the edge of the dumpster. Klaus wouldn’t call for help. Why bother keeping a lookout? His brother was going to die, and he was going to be alone again, and they were going to built a stupid statue of Klaus to remind the entire world of how he had failed to stay alive. Klaus had ten minutes, maybe less, and he was going to sleep through the rest of his life.  _

_ Unless…he wasn’t just asleep.  _

_ “Hey!” Ben yelled, clapping his hands in front of Klaus’ nose. This was before he knew what yelling—anger and fear—could do to a ghost. Afterwards he’d wonder, late at night, how much of his humanity he’d lost that day.  _

_ The relief Ben felt when Klaus opened his eyes, the overwhelming love for his brother who was still alive, were almost too much to handle. But yelling had worked once, and Ben was just coming to the realization that paradoxically, being almost completely invisible meant he could finally say whatever he wanted. And hey, who knew? It just might work.  _

_ “You suck,” he continued, crouching to get right up in Klaus’ face, “and your life is a disaster. If we weren’t related, I would’ve ditched your ass by now. So get up, get control of yourself, and don’t make me kill you again!”  _

_ “Wow, Benny,” Klaus said, with a shocked giggle. “Say it like you mean it, why don’t you?”  _

_ “Get. Up.”  _

_ And Klaus got up, climbed out of the dumpster, picked up the quarter, dialed 911. But despite Ben’s best efforts, his cajoling and yelling and loss of humanity, Klaus died for the first time that night.  _

“Of course I remembered,” Klaus said. “You saved my life, Benniroo.” 

“No, I didn’t.” And talking was hard again. 

“Technicality.” 

“The fuck was that, Klaus?” Diego asked, finally snapping out of his stupor, tip of his blade at the back of Klaus’ neck. Had he ever tried to resolve a conflict without a knife? 

“You told me to say something Ben would say.” Klaus impatiently swept Diego’s hand to the side and hit his knuckles on the hardwood floor, disarming him. The knife clattered across the polished floor, and Diego’s eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline. “That was verbatim. I actually thought it was one of his more inspirational speeches.” 

“Ben said that?” Luther asked, looking like he’d sooner believe that Reginald was a bad father. 

“Yeah, Ben said that,” Klaus said. “And it saved my life.” 

“No, it  _ didn’t _ ,” Ben said. He was crying again, but there were no tears. He couldn’t even cry right anymore.

“Alright, fine,” Klaus said, voice raising again. “So I died. But Ben, you’re the only reason the EMTs showed up. Even if God would’ve punted me back anyway because apparently She hates me, I’d lost way too much blood to function afterwards. Besides, if I somehow did survive, what the hell else did I have to live for? You  _ did _ save my life, Ben, so calm the hell down and  _ don’t leave me _ .” 

“You aren’t making sense,” Luther said. “Are you sure you’re clean?” Klaus nodded his head with an exasperated  _ why me?  _ expression that would’ve seemed more at home on Five’s face, or more likely Ben’s. Although it wasn’t like his siblings would  _ know  _ that, because they hadn’t seen Ben in over fifteen years. 

“You died?” Vanya asked, hugging herself even tighter and beginning to rock back and forth. Ben wished he could put his arms around her, too. Instead, he mirrored her motion and wrapped his arms around his own stomach. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that she was hugging him instead. It wasn’t like he could feel it, anyway. 

“Five times,” Ben said. He’d been there for every single one. He’d stood there, hood up, hands in his pockets, and done nothing while the paramedics worked or the dancers at the club gathered around Klaus’ lifeless body. Five times. He’d done  _ nothing _ . 

“Five times,” Klaus repeated. “Apparently. But guys, that’s not important. I’m not the one we need to worry about right now. Ben’s still really freaking out.” 

“Klaus, you  _ died. _ ” 

“Yeah, I did. And, yay me, I’m okay! So let’s concentrate on Ben, who isn’t.” 

“Can’t you just let him calm down on his own?” Diego asked, still looking very concerned. 

“Yeah,” Luther added. “He should be allowed to feel his feelings.” 

“Luther,” Klaus said, “I think I speak for everyone when I say: good job with the personal growth! But you’re still just not getting this through your thick skull. Ben isn’t human. Ben is a ghost.” 

Ben knew that, of course. He’d known that for however many years he’d only been able to talk to Klaus, been ignored by his family, been able to phase through walls. He’d visited his statue. He’d seen his obituary. But still, hearing it said out loud, that he wasn’t human anymore…

“And?” Diego asked. “So he isn’t human. He’s still Ben.” 

“Thanks, Diego,” Ben said without really thinking. 

“Ben says thanks.” Ben hadn’t really expected Klaus to repeat after him. “And yeah, he’s still Ben. For now. Do you all know what emotions do to ghosts? Really strong emotions like anger, grief, shock, love. Do you have any idea?” 

“No,” Vanya said. Everyone else slowly shook their heads. 

“If Ben keeps freaking out like this, he’s not going to be Ben anymore. He’s just going to be another ghost trying to kill me, blaming me for his death, making my life a living hell. More than he already does. So yeah, excuse me for wanting to calm him down!” 

“Can you touch him?” Vanya asked, switching the subject so abruptly that even Klaus was thrown. She’d shifted her gaze from Ben’s nose to his stomach, right where the Horror was pushing. If it got out, Ben had no idea what it could do. What if it became corporeal? He didn’t know if he had it in him to control it once it was free. He  _ would  _ hold it in. 

“He touched me, once,” Klaus said after a second, for once ignoring the opportunity to make a dirty joke. “He punched me in the face. Right, Ben? You punched me.” 

Ben managed to nod. One of the highlights of his afterlife. The first time he’d actually felt something in…how long? 

“Can you try to touch him now?” 

“Is that okay, Ben?” Klaus asked, and he was actually pretty good at this whole seance thing when he tried. Ben nodded. 

“Not my stomach,” he said. Klaus’ jaw set. 

“It’s okay, Ben,” he said. He was using Ben’s name a lot. It was actually kind of nice. Reminding Ben who he was. He couldn’t afford to forget, not even for a second. “I won’t touch your stomach. I promise. You just do your best to keep it in, okay?” Ben nodded again. 

“The Horror?” Diego asked, sounding appropriately horrified. “It still…wow. Sorry, Ben.” 

Klaus’ hand lowered slowly towards Ben’s, and their fingers met in a tiny spark of blue electricity. And then, for the second time since he’d died, Ben could actually feel something. Unfortunately that something was the Horror pushing at his stomach, icepicks and fire and one of Diego’s knives piercing his skin over and over again. So this was pain. Memory didn’t do it justice. Ben wanted to yell at Klaus to take his hand away,  _ take it away _ , but he was pretty sure that if he opened his mouth he’d just start screaming.

“Touch his forehead,” Vanya said, her voice more confident than it had been in years. “Tap your fingers, like this, Klaus.” She tapped the back of Klaus’ neck, and he copied the motion on Ben’s forehead. 

Ben was back in his bed, in the middle of the night, and his tears were drying while Vanya tapped his forehead and whispered about the ocean. His nonexistent muscles seemed to relax, and the pain of the horror dulled. Just a bit. Just enough. 

“That looks really weird,” Diego said, staring at Klaus, who was apparently tapping the air with a look of intense concentration on his face. “Is that where his forehead is?” 

“Yeah,” Klaus said, “where have you been looking?” 

“My shoulder,” Ben said. He wished he could breathe through the pain. It had to end at some point, right?

“Apparently you’ve been staring at his shoulder. Very saucy, Diego.” Diego flushed. 

“I didn’t know where his face was!” 

“It’s right here.” 

“Well, I know that  _ now _ .”

“So you can make him corporeal. Interesting.” Five had his studious face on, the one he used to wear when they were solving complicated math problems or Mom was teaching them to bake cookies. “Can he only touch you, or can he manipulate his environment?” 

“What part of trying to calm Ben down do you not understand?” Klaus snapped, fingers hitting Ben’s forehead with just a bit more force. “This isn’t time for your little science experiments, Bill Nye.” 

“I’m sorry,” Five said, standing up quickly and taking a step backwards. “I didn’t mean to…experimentation used to calm him down. I’m obviously not helping. I’m sorry.” 

Ben didn’t think he’d heard Five apologize since he came back from the apocalypse. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever hearing Five apologize. 

“Wait!” He called, and Klaus echoed him like an electronic megaphone with a three second delay. Five stopped, fists outstretched, blue force field just beginning to form. 

“What?” He snapped, contrition turned to annoyance. Probably at himself. 

“It’s okay,” Ben said. “He’s right. I haven’t been able to experiment in a long time.” 

“Because you can’t touch anything?” Luther asked, after Klaus had repeated his message. Ben was more affected than he’d like to admit by being talked to directly. Like he was an actual person, not just an extension of Klaus. 

“No, because his scientific paper was rejected and it became too painful for him to go on,” Klaus said.

“Yeah,” Luther sighed. “Stupid question. Sorry, Ben.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“He says he’ll never forgive you.” Ben narrowed his eyes, and Luther’s expression became partially skeptical and partially kicked-puppy. “Fine! Fine. He says it’s fine. You’re taking all the fun out of this.” 

“Yeah, because this is so much fun,” Ben grumbled. 

“Hey, I can just stop talking right now. Do you want that? Or I could go get some nice whisky from Dad’s cupboard…”

“You personally threw that whisky into the dumpster last month.” 

“And maybe some of it’s still in there!” 

“Yeah, because that dumpster hasn’t been emptied in two months. And no junkie wandered along and snatched up twelve bottles of high-quality whisky.” 

“Ugh, stop being so  _ rational _ !” 

“I don’t know if this is better or worse, now we know he’s actually talking to someone,” Diego said, gaze flickering between Klaus and Ben’s ear like he was controlling a speeding knife. 

“Yeah,” Luther said. “I wish I knew what Ben was saying.” Vanya and Allison nodded. 

“It’s simple,” Five said. “You just have to extrapolate from an incomplete data set. For example, Ben just told Klaus that he threw away the whisky and it’ll be gone by now.” 

“That’s completely wrong,” Klaus said. Ben narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was grateful that Klaus hadn’t stopped tapping his forehead, and was trying so hard to calm him down, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a complete dick. Klaus sighed. “Alright, that’s exactly what he said.” 

“Ask Five about his experiment,” Ben said. Arguing, while a nice distraction from the pain, always made the Horror more insistent on escape. 

“Ben wants to know what’s brewing in the beaker of your scientific little mind.” 

“What?” Diego asked. 

“He wants to know what my experiment is about,” Five said with a  _ ‘how is this moron my brother’  _ sigh that Ben recognized all too well. “My working hypothesis is that if Four can make physical contact with Six, Six may in turn be able to make physical contact with, and or manipulate, his surroundings. For example, that rug.” 

“What?” Diego asked again. 

“Why are you calling us by our numbers?” Klaus asked. 

“Numbers are more scientific,” Ben and Five said at the same time. 

“Hey!” Klaus said, pointing between Five and Ben. “You did the thing! Now you both have to pay me a quarter.” 

“Should I try to pull or push the rug?” Ben asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, a little bit of both, I think. Really put your back into it, Benny.” Ben rolled his eyes again, to the point where they hurt (actually hurt!) and Allison gagged.

“I think that for the first part of the experiment, you should just try to move the fringe on the edge of the rug.” Five said. Ben half expected him to blink away and return with a lab coat and a clipboard. 

“I’ll try.” 

“He says he’ll try,” Klaus said, actually repeating after Ben for the first time in several minutes. Ben raised his eyebrows. “What? I can play copycat just as well as the next bitch.” 

“Well, ignoring whatever that was,” Diego said, “let’s see if this works.” 

“Good luck, Ben,” Allison croaked. 

Ben didn’t try to give them a reassuring smile. What good would it do? They’d just see a blank patch of floor. Instead he stretched out his arm and batted at the carpet’s musty fringe like a lackadaisical cat, not even bothering to look. Sure, it was nice to be collaborating on an experiment with Five after all this time, but Ben hadn’t been able to catch the bowling ball, or pick up the quarter, or fold down the theatre seat. So why should he be able to move the rug? 

“Was that some kind of freak wind?” Luther asked in the kind of awed voice he usually saved for Dad, “Or…”

“Did Ben just move that rug?” Diego finished. “Bro, I think you just moved a rug.” 

“Now grab onto the edge and pull,” Five said, excitement hiding beneath the sharp edge of his voice. Ben’s brain was still racing to process everything going on (he’d actually moved a rug. He’d moved a rug!) but his fingers grabbed onto the edge of the rug and tugged. It always scared him, when his body did things before the synaptic impulse registered in his brain. He had a hard enough time keeping control over the Horror. 

He turned his head and watched as his fingers  _ didn’t  _ fall through the rug, and the rug  _ didn’t  _ stay completely still. If he really concentrated, he could even feel the rug’s bald texture under his fingers. 

“Holy shit,” Diego whispered. 

“Hypothesis confirmed,” Five said, actually smiling. 

“I did it!” Klaus yelled, pumping his fist. “Suck it, Dad!” 

“ _ You  _ did it?” Luther scoffed.

“Ben did it,” Vanya said, eyes shining. Allison gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to a spot about five inches to Ben’s right. 

“I have to go,” Ben said. He tried to fade into the blackness like he did when Klaus was high, but something seemed to be holding him down. He grabbed Klaus’ shoulder and tried to haul himself to his feet (had his body always been this  _ heavy _ ?) but just succeeded in pulling Klaus over backwards. Which was funny, sure, but now Klaus was sprawled across his stomach. 

“Why?” Klaus asked, making himself comfortable on top of Ben. “The party’s just getting started, my man.” 

“What did he say?” Asked Diego. 

“He said he has to go,” Klaus said, shrugging. “I’m guessing he means the speedy exit kind, not the little boy’s room kind. And he’s already done the death kind.” 

“Why?” Vanya asked, voice small and wobbly. “Why does he want to go  _ now _ ?” 

“He just found out he could touch the carpet,” Luther said, crossing his arms. “And he can touch you, so he can probably touch us.” 

“Yeah, so why—” Diego started. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Ben said. Klaus held his GOODBYE hand up, cutting Diego off. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that,” he said, purposefully planting his elbow in Ben’s nose as rolled onto the floor. 

“I’m going to kill you. All of you.” 

“Okay. Ominous. Kind of terrifying. Care to explain further?” 

“If I can touch you,” Ben said, blinking his eyes because he thought he could feel tears creeping up on him, “so can the Horror.” 

“Ah,” Klaus said, scooting backwards on the ass of his burgundy nightmare pants. “That does throw a spanner in the works, doesn’t it?” 

“You could say that, yeah.” 

“And can you…y’know. Mind over matter and all that.” 

“Barely,” Ben said, closing his eyes. “Just barely, and I’m not sure how much longer.”

“What’s going on?” Vanya asked, with an almost heartbreaking amount of concern.

“I think we’d all like to know,” Luther cut in, annoyed. 

“Yeah, so…” Klaus trailed off. “Actually, Ben, do you want to take this one?” 

“Thanks,” Ben said, with an unexpected rush of gratitude. Sometimes, Klaus was kind of a good brother. Sometimes. “Say I don’t want you all to die the same way I did, and definitely not on the same day. Tell them I don’t want to go, and I’m sorry. Say I love them. I love all of you.”

Klaus just stared at Ben, lip quivering. “I almost forgot it was…” he whispered. “What with everything. I almost forgot. I’m sorry, Ben.” 

Ben nodded. “Tell them,” he said. 

“What did he say?” Diego asked. 

“Come on, Klaus,” Five snapped. “We can’t read your mind.” 

“Wouldn’t that be cool, though?” Klaus mused. “Actually, no. It wouldn’t be. I don’t want to see what Luther thinks about Allison.” 

“You think you’re so funny,” Luther said, clenching his fist and taking a menacing step forward. “Just tell us what our brother said, Klaus, before I make it a lot harder for you to talk.” 

“He said that he loves you,” Klaus said, looking across the room to where a woman with her jaw hanging off was endlessly pacing the same patch of floor. “He says he doesn’t want you to die the same way he did. Especially not on the same day.” 

“We’re not going to die,” Five said, shrugging like he’d just brushed off Klaus’ restaurant choice. “Not today. Ben’s not going to kill us.” 

“You don't know that,” Luther said, putting a protective arm in front of Allison. 

“How many times did Dad have us run this kind of training simulation?” Five asked, sweeping his arms out in a broad gesture meant to encapsulate their many, many training simulations. “Klaus tells us where the tentacles are, I jump to avoid them, Luther and Diego pin them down, Allison rumors Ben to get them under control. And now that we’ve got Vanya’s powers, we shouldn’t even break a sweat. That is, if the Horror ever even gets out, because if self control really is what keeps ghosts human then Ben must have more self control than all the rest of you together.” 

“Yeah,” Diego said, “Besides, Ben, we know you’d never really hurt us.” 

“Right. You’re not Luther,” Klaus put in, just before Luther’s fist finally connected with his chest and sent him sprawling across the floor. “You literally just proved my point,” he called from the side of the room.

“We’re not leaving you, Ben,” Vanya said, kneeling down so close to Ben that he had to move away to keep her from kneeling on him. “And you aren’t leaving us, either.” 

“I’ll hurt you,” Ben said, voice thick. He felt something warm trickling down his cheek. He was actually crying. “I could kill you, Vanya.” 

“You stayed with me when I almost killed the entire world,” she said, almost as if she’d heard him. “I’m staying with you now.” 

Then she reached out, and Ben caught her hand in his. They both gasped at the contact, and Ben felt more wetness seep from under his eyelids. 

“I’m holding his hand,” Vanya said, almost like a prayer. “I’m holding Ben’s hand.” 

“Yes, yes,” Klaus said, picking himself off the floor with a groan. “It’s all very moving. As long as he doesn’t kill you.” 

“You just said he wasn’t going to kill us,” Luther said. “In a typically annoying way.” 

“I mean, he punched me too,” Klaus said. “Plus, he’s spent the last fifteen years with me.  _ I  _ wouldn’t trust me not to kill me. Or you. But you already killed me, so…”

“What are you on, Klaus?” Diego asked. 

“Nothing,” Klaus said. “Or else Vanya wouldn’t be holding Ben’s hand in this very moving and beautiful moment.” 

“I’m not going to kill you,” Ben cut in. “I’m good.” 

“Wow, Benny, you’re just hot and cold today. Next thing I know, you’ll be saying you didn’t steal Diego’s porn stash when we were twelve.” 

“ _ Klaus! _ ” Both Ben and Diego said. Diego turned bright red, and Ben could feel his ghostly cheeks getting just slightly warmer than the rest of his body. But Klaus was already across the floor, draping himself across Ben’s back. 

“Ah, you know I can’t stay mad at you, Benny.” 

“I’m the one who’s mad at you.” 

“Same difference.” 

“From both Ben and me,” Diego said, stepping closer and sinking to his knees in a smooth movement like he was in a choreographed dance routine, “shut up, Klaus.” Diego leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Ben. “Are you still wearing that dumb leather jacket?” 

“He hasn’t taken it off in fifteen years,” Klaus said.

“Gross.” 

“I liked that leather jacket,” Allison said, wrapping her arms around Ben’s shoulders. “It made him—I mean, you—look cool. Besides, Diego, have you ever worn anything that  _ wasn’t  _ leather?”

“Our uniform?” Vanya offered. 

“It was a joke, Vanny,” Klaus said. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s okay, Vanya,” Ben said without thinking. 

“Ben says it’s okay,” Klaus echoed. Vanya smiled. 

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Luther said, wrapping his arms around the entire group. His voice was choked and shaky. “That I didn’t believe that you were still around, and that I didn’t do more…” 

“Ben says it’s okay,” Klaus interrupted. “He says he doesn’t blame you. He knows that I’m not exactly the most reliable source of information.” 

“Yeah,” Ben said. “Especially because I didn’t say any of that.” 

“You were about to.” 

“Maybe we do spend too much time together.” 

“I don’t do hugs,” Five said, arms crossed, standing awkwardly a few feet away from the rest of his family.

“It’s okay,” Ben said, but the place where his heart used to beat twinged.

“Can I hold one of his hands, Vanya?” Five asked, appearing in front of Ben and kneeling down next to Vanya. She immediately let go of one of Ben’s hands, and Five took it in his own small hand. “Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a moment, no one trying to kill anyone else, the Horror calming in unison with Ben. Ben listened to his siblings breathing, and he could almost pretend that some of the breath he was hearing was his. 

“I’ve been working on controlling my powers,” Vanya said quietly, breaking the silence. “A lot. I’ve been doing well, without my pills and everything.” 

“Good,” Luther said immediately. “We’re proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” Vanya said awkwardly, one corner of her mouth lifting just a bit. “I’m just saying, Klaus, we both have hard powers. Maybe we could train together.” 

“You aren’t going to lock me in the mausoleum again, right?” Klaus asks, with a little huff of a laugh. 

“The what?” Five asked, hand tensing around Ben’s. 

“Okay, you must know about the mausoleum. Where did you think I disappeared to when we were kids?” 

“Um, not a mausoleum?” Diego said incredulously. 

“Wow. I really need to talk to you guys more,” Klaus said. 

“Does that mean you’ll finally stop laying all your problems on me?” Ben asked. 

“Shut up,” Klaus said, rubbing his hand around on Ben’s head like he used to do, just when Ben had finished gelling his hair in the morning. This time, Ben’s hair didn’t even move. 

“Screw you,” Ben said.

“Love you too, bro,” Klaus said. “And Vanya, I might just take you up on that training offer. I think you all deserve to have Mr. Judgy on your asses, too. I’ve been dealing with him for the last fifteen years.” 

“I look forward to it,” Five said, cracking one of the first smiles Ben had seen from him since he came back from the apocalypse. 

And for the first time in months, Ben smiled too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I started writing this story way back in July or August, with the idea that it would be about half as long as it turned out to be. This piece is literally the definition of the story having a different idea than the author. Still, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out after lots of revision and some great beta reading from n0ts0sane. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think! I so appreciate every single comment and kudos (kudo?). 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone. Happy holidays! Love you all 💙💙


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